


A Little Bit of Family Life.

by Hannoel17



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Johnlock, Fluff, I don't tag well, John tries to balance it, M/M, Parentlock, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, i have no idea either, oneshots, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:26:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannoel17/pseuds/Hannoel17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshots? Probably. I don't really know either. Hopefully there will be cuteness and sap and general sherlock-y goodness. Just read the damn thing if you can be bothered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock is intimidating.

**Author's Note:**

> As you may have deduced from the summary I haven't the faintest idea what i'm doing. Additionally, I thought this would be a good thing to write at 2AM so forgive me for it's no doubt awfulness.

Hamish Watson-Holmes was a genius, that much was certain. But he truly was an idiot if he believed he could hide his new relationship from his father of all people.  
"Hamish, when will we be meeting your new...suitor?" Sherlock asked, hiding a smirk as the thirteen year old boy visibly gulped.  
"Never?" He tried with a weak smile, he'd prayed that by some miracle he could avoid this.  
"Nonsense! I expect to meet him by this evening." The man smiled evilly at his son. He was beginning to get bored without a case and this could be just the thing he needed. 

 

When the boy arrived at 221B, he was nervous to say the least. He'd heard so many things about the infamous blogger and detective duo, and by the sounds of it he'd be lucky if he left the flat in one piece. Nonetheless he pushed his shoulders back and held his head up high as he entered the flat, hand firmly grasping Hamish's.  
"Alex, lovely to meet you. I would say I'd heard so much about you but i'm afraid I wasn't even made aware of your existence let alone your involvement with my son." John smiled at the brunette boy currently clutching at his dark haired sons hand as if it was some sort of life line. 

Suddenly an explosion sounded from the kitchen.

"Oh for the love of all things holy" John muttered as a very shocked looking Sherlock stumbled from the room in a smokey haze.

"Just for clarification, that was not meant to happen." He pouted as John scowled at him. 

"We have a guest." The blogger pointed out and said guests hazel eyes widened in fear as Sherlocks piercing stare zeroed in on him. 

"Don't like him." Sherlock said before stomping out of the room, sometimes John wondered who was the actual child in this house. Sometimes it definitely seemed like it wasn't Hamish.

"Just ignore him boys, he's just jealous. Will you be stopping for Din-" His question was cut off by a succession of bangs from the kitchen. Alex jumped with each one whereas John and his son remained unfazed. "I SWEAR TO GOD SHERLOCK WATSON-HOLMES IF YOU HAVE MY GUN AGAIN YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANY BODY PARTS FOR A WEEK" Hamish's Dad yelled, much to Hamish' boyfriends horror.

"BORED!" Sherlock yelled back, stomping back in to the room. "Boring!" He remarked, pointing one long pale finger. A look of horror overtook Hamish's usually happy features and he stepped in front of his boyfriend defensively. 

"You take that back right now!" He cried indignantly, how dare he insult Alex like that. He was far from dull. 

"NO!

"FATHER!" He yelled right back as John yelled "SHERLOCK!" at the same time. 

"No." He repeated, if a bit more quiet this time. 

"YOU DEMANDED THAT YOU MEET MY BOYFRIEND AND THEN PROCEED TO ACT LIKE A COLOSSAL JERKFACE."

"HAMISH WATSON-HOLMES IF YOU'RE GOING TO INSULT ME THEN AT LEAST DO IT IN CORRECT ENGLISH."

"FATHER YOU ARE ACTING LIKE AN OVER-SIZED INFANTILE CREATURE. PLEASE CEASE YOUR LUDICROUS BEHAVIOR BEFORE I AM FORCED TO REFER THIS TO UNCLE MYCROFT."

Sherlock looked as if Hamish had stabbed him through the heart.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Both boys (That's right, whilst Sherlock was acting like this he would only be referred to as a boy. Not the man he allegedly was.) were caught in a staring competition with enough ice between them to refreeze the icecaps. Seeming to mirror each other, the two turned away from each other and stomped off to their respective bedrooms, later on they would be drawn out by the lure of their experiments but for now the object of their argument was left standing awkwardly in the living room of 221B. 

"I guess..I guess i'll show myself out.." He mumbled and tried to shuffle from the room.

"Alex" John called, pausing the boy who looked over his shoulder in a manner that suggested he would rather be anywhere rather than here "It was lovely to meet you. Honestly. Sherlock can just be a bit...Sherlock at times. Please don't let this put you off coming back in the future, just give me a while to talk Sherlock round, yeah?" Alex nodded his agreement and all but sprinted from the flat.

 

Alex and Hamish never really got on after that.  
Hamish would never really forgive his Father for scaring away his first boyfriend-even if he later came to realize that it was partly his fault-no matter how many severed heads he presented him with.


	2. A Great Man.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An explanation of Hamish's mind. He sure is...different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tralalalaaa why do I always write these at stupid o'clock? I don't know! Forgive me for any grave errors, I own nothing and all faults are my own. (Gosh that sounds like something a serious person would say *manic laughter*)

So much for that, Hamish thought to himself as he scowled at his completed homework. He was fairly certain that the teacher said it would challenge him, however the fact he'd finished it within half an hour completely contradicted this. 

Somedays his mind felt like a speeding train, gradually getting more and more out of control until it would crash in an almighty explosion and someone crying. Other days it was as if the rest of the world was caught in honey, going too slowly and at an almost painful pace. To put it in his Fathers words it was utterly "BORING!" 

Nobody at school understood the way his mind worked, they just knew it was different. And that was apparently something to be feared. Okay so maybe he'd got the science teacher fired when he'd accidentally deduced she was an alcoholic in front of Ofsted, and maybe he'd exposed the P.E and the English teachers secret relationship. But did that really merit being treated like a social pariah? It was one of the few things that Hamish was clueless on. 

He knew it worried John that he seemed to be taking after Sherlock emotion wise but that wasn't strictly true. Father chose not to understand, Hamish had no choice. It was stressful for the boy, to have to pretend to be normal in a world where he was considered a freak and for the better part of it he managed. So what if he had to recite all the elements in mass order to calm down somedays? One day Hamish Watson - Holmes would grown up to be a great man, and if his family had anything to do with it, he'd one day be a good one.


	3. Children under the age of seven don't get explosions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish has unusual eyebrows because of an explosion phase that lasted ten years. It started and finished with a bang on that made John produce undignified noises and Sherlock proud his son could brush it off. Oh and the 'children under the age of seven don't get explosions ' rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what?! I wrote this at a stupid time again! Yaaaaay! I don't even know what happened to this chapter. Other people edit theirs and have betas, me? I have the notes on my phone that get copied and pasted. And shout out to my homie Courtney, YOU FOUND MY FANFIC ACCOUNT.ENJOOY MY GENERAL SHITNESS. I'll shut up now and let you read.

The first time Hamish caused an explosion, he was the tender age of three years old. Sherlock was too enthralled with his microscope to take any notice of the below average height boy stealing chemicals and mixing what shouldn't be mixed. The resulting explosion cause the small child to be knocked off his feet and land several feet away from his original location, the noise that John made when he saw this happen was very similar to that of a cat which had just been hit by a car and to this day he denies the fact that such a noise left his body. To this day, Sherlock is adamant that the good doctor makes even stranger ones during sexy time, but little Hamish didn't need to know that.  
To say that John was livid, was an understatement, to say that he had all the fury of an erupting volcano mixed with the rage of The Incredible Hulk...well that would probably be an understatement too. In short John was pissed and the detective would bare the brunt of it. 

Later on, after a very heated argument and Hamish being temporarily relocated to Ms. I'm-not-your-babysitter-Hudson, even after utterly fantastic make up sex which I won't go in to detail about (just in case little Hamish happens to read this) John was still pissed. 

Thus a rule was born, a rule that would be referred to as the 'Children under the age of seven don't get explosions' rule, which despite it not being a very snappy title, you understand the intent behind it. 

Even though Sherlock would never dare admit it, he was proud of the way his first child reacted to being thrown across the room. A normal three year old would no doubt throw a tantrum so loud that Ms.Turners Married Ones would end up calling Social Services. Again. But Hamish was no normal three year old, he was the son of Sherlock Watson - Holmes and Dr.John Watson - Holmes and by god, if he'd let one tiny stumble stop his inquisitive mind from making more things explode, then his lire wouldn't be worth living anymore.  
So yes, there was the 'children under the age of seven don't get explosions' rule. That didn't stop Hamish, who was surprisingly light on his feet, sneaking up behind his easily distracted Father (usually whilst his Dad was out because in general he was ridiculously attentive to their infant son going anywhere near the kitchen/laboratory. I mean, why bother, he was three. Surely he was old enough to be left on his own now?) And stealing his unguarded chemicals. The series of explosions that followed lead to the chemicals being put out of little Hamishs reach, but do you honestly know a three year old who can't climb when they REALLY want something? I know I don't. Anyway, the explosions carried on until Hamish reached the age of 13, John had long ago given up trying to talk him out of it and instead supplied him with safety goggles and gas masks as appropriate.

But when Hamish was 13, he went through that typical teenage phase of being under the impression that he knew best. Whilst it was true that he was probably a lot smarter than his Dad, when it came to Father he had very little chance. But because he believed himself to be the only genius in 221B, he ignored all his Fathers comments that he was adding too much of a certain chemical (which I won't mention because it's technically illegal to possess it, and if Mycroft finds out there will be much trouble. MUCH TROUBLE.) And continued to add more of it anyway. The explosion this caused the gangly teenager to be knocked promptly on his arse missing half his left eyebrow (which never properly grew back) and a considerable amount of his black, curly hair. And trust me, no amount of shampoo could get rid of the smell. And no amount of biscuits would make Ms.Hudson fully forgive them for the damage to the ceiling, but in all fairness she should probably be used to it by now. 

That's how, for the first night that John, Sherlock and Hamish all spent at home together was silent after ten years of at least one of the geniuses blowing something up. 

To this day, if you look closely enough, you can see Hamishs odd left eyebrow and the scorch marks on the ceiling. And also to this day all chemicals are kept under lock and key in 221B.


	4. The Demon Child of 221B.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade babysits, Sherlock gets covered in blue gunk and John almost breaks his back. So a normal day in 221B, yeah?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't particularly like this chapter but I've mostly updated out of spite to my dear friend Courtney who has desperately been trying to find my account and failing miserably. :D. But yeah, it's not so good but read it anyway if you like that kinda thaaang.

Hamish stared at the DI. The DI stared back.   
"Why are you here?" Asked the inspector.  
"Why are YOU here?" Replied the ever inquisitive ten year old boy.  
"I asked first."  
"I asked second." Credit to the Inspector, he barely batted an eyelid at the childs smartass response.   
"SHERLOCK!" He yelled over his shoulder "SHERLOCK, there is a child in your flat!" Rather than a vocal response, he got a text message. 

'Meet Hamish, our son. Thanks for babysitting! - SH' 

"Fuck." He muttered before realising he was in the presence of a minor. "Hamish? I'm Lestrade...I'm apparently babysitting until your Father gets back." His eyes darted around the cluttered flat. An outsider may be forgiven for thinking it was a death trap, a person who lived there would know for sure. "Don't you have homework to do or something?" 

"No." The boy almost sneered at the thought of it taking so long. "I finished it in the car home." 

"Oh." Lestrade seemed to be thrown for a loop. "What do you usually do after school?" 

"Well currently me and Father are working on a study on the effects of common house hold cleaning products on a decomposing body and Dad is teaching me how to identify the different stages of rigormortis." He smiled at the blinking man. 

"How does Cluedo sound?" 

"Excellent."

 

 

A short while later, after a heated argument over exactly why the victim couldn't have done it. ("Because it's not in the rules, Hamish!" "Then the rules are wrong, Lestrade!") Sherlock stumbled back in tothe flat, dripping a suspicious blue gunk everywhere. 

"Father, what is that?" The man in question merely stared at a particularly dark lump of the matter on his arm with a bemused smile on his face, almost as if he'd forgotten about it. He went to throw himself on the couch. "FATHER!" Hamish yelled, stopping the man in his track.   
"WHAT?!" Sherlock yelled back.   
"SHOWER."  
"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT USING SENTENCES?"  
"THAT IS IRRELEVANT. YOU NEED TO GO IN THE SHOWER."  
"NO."  
"Sentences, Father." The child said in a mocking tone that was far beyond his years.   
"You need to stop telling me what to do." He pouted, but there was no serious offence behind it.   
"It's exactly what Dad would say. Go in the shower." And Sherlock went and cleaned up, leaving a small pile of the mysterious substance. 

A little while later, after Sherlock had showered, after Lestrade had left muttering complaints about how he was a Detective Inspector and not a babysitter, John got back from his shift at the hospital. And promptly fell on his arse in the pile of blue gunk neither the Father nor his Son had deemed necessary enough to clean up since 'its not like it's burning a hole in the floor this time Dad.' 

But now you know why there's a blue stain on the floor of 221B, and why there's a Cluedo board attached to the wall by a knife. The fact that John was bed ridden for a week on account of the damage done to his back meant that only Molly would be allowed to babysit if Ms.Hudson wasn't availablebecause at least Molly would be smart enough to clean it up. DI Lestrade couldn't pretend that he wasn't too upset over the fact that he was no longer required to look after the demon child of 221B.

(Especially when that same child later got a reputation at The Yard for crashing its entire conputer system after they refused to let him on the crime scene)


	5. Eat Your Greens.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish won't eat his vegetables and Sherlock doesn't blame him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shout out to Courtney! *manic laughter* I hope anyone who reads this has had a fantabulous Christmas and will have a wonderful New Year. 
> 
> But as per my usual style, it's a short oneshot that isn't in chronological order with the rest of the story and utterly awful. 
> 
> Please don't strain yourself reading it.

"Hamish, finish your peas." John prompted for the third time. 

"No." The boy replied, glowering at his peas like they were causing him a personal offence by existing. 

"Please, Hamish." He tried yet again.

No, Dad." He said again, this time the nine year old turned his bright blue eyes on the parent talking to him and pouted. "I don't like them."

"Liar." Sherlock breathed and the puppy eyes morphed into a glare. 

"You eat YOUR peas." The boy said and his Father mirrored the glare. 

"No." 

"Boys. " John warned, sensing the argument brewing in the tension between the two boys in front of him. Despite the fact that both Sherlock and Hamish loved each other dearly, neither were the best at communicating and barely a day passed with out some sort of an argument. But after that they'd make something explode and all would be well again, it was how they bonded. 

"Why should I have to eat my peas if he won't?" Hamish demanded and flicked the food around his otherwise empty plate. 

He did have a point, but it was so rare that John could get an almost full meal in to the man that when he did, he didn't push on the trivial things such as a few leftover peas. Hamish on the other hand was a growing boy and really ought to eat his vegetables. 

"Do as I say, not as I do." Sherlock smiled at his young son who gave him thw pea-glower back. 

Their arguments were like a game of chess, each was always two steps in front of the other and John was four paces behind cleaning up the mess. 

"Lead by example." His son replied with a devilish smirk. 

Sherlock twitched as he tried to formulate a logical response. Hamish's grin increased as Sherlock twitched again. The older man eventually sighed reluctantly and shoved a mouthful of the peas into his mouth, only to spit them out, half chewed, a few seconds later. 

"Respect your elders!" He exclaimed with a manic grin and now Hamish had to sigh with a great deal of reluctance and shoved the peas in to his mouth. 

Hamish was only nine, he'd beat his Father one day, he just needed more practice. After all, it was how they bonded.


End file.
